


Escapology

by Escalus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode: s02e07 Restraint, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Sharing a Bed, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: You would think that with the number of people breaking into his bedroom, Scott would be used to it by now.   Yet, Jackson Whittemore manages to surprise him, restraining order or not.





	Escapology

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the end of Restraint and before Raving.

Scott slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He took each step one at a time, deliberately. He was tired, far more tired than he should have been. He hadn’t felt this tired since the last time his father had missed his birthday. He was tired of all of this … stuff. He was tired of Derek’s constant brutality. The new alpha acted like he didn’t trust any solution that didn’t involve blood and death. He was tired of living in fear of Gerard Argent. He had no doubt that the old psychopath would hurt his mother if Scott didn’t do exactly what he said. He was tired, to the point of exhaustion, of being afraid.

He opened the door, flicked on his light, and found Jackson Whittemore sitting in the chair by his bed. 

Jackson lifted one eyebrow. “You really should lock your windows.” 

“Holy shit!” Terror-induced adrenaline froze Scott like a deer on the highway. He was half expecting Jackson to lizard out and kill him right there and then. After a minute though, when Jackson barely moved, Scott started breathing again. He swallowed air until he could talk. “A locked window isn’t going to stop the people I’m worried about. Like you.”

“I am not the kanima,” Jackson breathed angrily, as if he had expected some other reaction to showing up in his room in the middle of the night. “When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

Scott shrugged and let his book bag slip off his shoulders and fall to the ground. He didn’t really want to argue with anyone right now. “What are you doing in my room? I’m pretty sure that this doesn’t count as me violating your restraining order.”

“It’s funny, I’ve seen more of you since I got that restraining order than during all of ninth grade.” Jackson complained. It didn’t have much heat; his co-captain looked he didn’t want to argue any more than Scott did. He looked down at his hands. “I came for another reason.”

Scott sat down on the corner of the bed, nervously. Realistically, he knew should be trying to convince Jackson that he was indeed the kanima. He knew he should be trying to think of a way to keep Jackson contained without involving the law or hurting him. But he couldn’t bring himself to focus on that right now. Jackson was acting human, and that meant that, for tonight at least, he could treat him that way.

A strange thought occurred to him. Last fall, he would have been excited to have the captain of the lacrosse team and big man on campus in his bedroom. It would have meant something good. 

Scott realized Jackson was waiting for him to ask. “What was it?”

“I wanted to talk … “Jackson seemed to be having trouble forming the words. It was weirdly atypical. If he didn’t know what to say, Jackson usually went for mean. That didn’t seem to be his goal tonight. “I wanted to tell you … God, this is hard. Stop looking at me like that.” 

Scott felt his face screw up in confusion. “Stop looking at you like what?”

“I don’t need your pity, McCall.” Jackson grated. “I’m just here to set the record straight. I don’t need anyone thinking that I was going to do anything to Allison.”

Scott felt the echoes of wrath stir in his gut. “Of course you weren’t! You were just on top of her, naked and wet, in the boys’ locker room.” He suddenly wanted to beat the shit out of Jackson again. Jackson could have hurt her or worse.

“I know what it looked like!” Jackson protested hotly. “Why do you think I’m here? I … I’m not the best person in the world, but I’m not … that.”

“No.” Scott felt the anger disappear like the smoke after you dropped a bucket of water on a camp fire. The truth had a way of doing that. “You’re not.”

“Okay, I have to get this out, so let me explain. I was being an asshole, but she came into the boys’ locker room. She started talking to me.”

“That doesn’t matter! It would have taken you fifteen seconds to put on a pair of pants.” Scott wasn’t going to let Jackson blame this on Allison. “You were …

“She doesn’t get to corner me in the showers and then play the victim.” Suddenly, Jackson sounded like a little boy desperate to make the broken window someone else’s mischief.

“Pants, Jackson. A towel. You were using your …” Scott didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he was turned on by Jackson’s naked body. “You knew what you were doing.”

Jackson turned away at that accusation. It was his tell when he was ashamed or scared of something. He refused to look you in the eyes while he repositioned. “I’m not sure that I…” His jaw clenched. “We, Allison and I, were actually talking about you. That’s why I was being an asshole.”

“About me?” Scott went to his desk and sat down on the chair. It gave him something to do with his body while he tried not to sound too curious about what they were talking about.

Jackson smirked as if he had won something, though Scott though he was being silly. It wasn’t a big secret that he paid a lot of attention to what Allison said. Jackson commented dryly. “You two should break up.” 

Scott blinked twice; that wasn’t what he was expecting the conversation to be about. “Thank you for that observation, but you can take it and yourself and go directly to hell.” Scott did not need relationship advice from anyone, yet it seemed everybody had an opinion on his love life. At least Stiles _wanted_ him to be with Allison.

“I mean it, McCall. How do you think that is going to end? Do you think you’re going to live happily ever after?” Jackson was trying to sound reasonable. It didn’t suit him; he was much sexier when he was being indifferent.

“I love her.” It had gotten easier and easier to say it as time passed. The idea still made Scott warm down under his ribs. “That’s all that matters.”

“No matter what that does to her?” 

This freaking lizard was trying to imply that he was bad for Allison. “What?”

“You might be using it as a lifeline, McCall, but all you’re doing is putting her in a position where she has to choose between you and her family. Don’t you think that’s pretty selfish?”

“And you would know all about being selfish, wouldn’t you?” Scott used anger to stamp down the queasiness in his stomach. 

“I know all about it. I am the absolute World’s Finest at being selfish.” Jackson lifted one eyebrow and sneered at him. “I dated Lydia for over a year, and I knew that I was hurting her.” Scott’s face must have shown his confusion. “You think I don’t care about Lydia? Oh, you _do_ think I didn’t care for her!”

“You dumped her. By text. You told her she was dead weight.” Wasn’t this obvious even to someone like Jackson?

Jackson took it all in stride. “Yep. It was better that way.”

“Better? For who?”

“Would she have been less hurt if I gave her the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech? Contrary to popular opinion, that type of schmaltzy crap doesn’t help anyone. All it does is give the poor loser who hears it hope that one day, you might come back to them. I’m not going back to her.”

“If it’s not even an option for you, then you didn’t love her like I love Allison!”

“Jesus, you’re stupid, McCall. For some reason, I was beginning to think you had something up there between your ears. I did love her.” Jackson paused after he said it as if he had to confirm that he had said it. “I was also using her to feel important, just as you’re using Allison to feel human.”

“Allison is my anchor. Werewolves need an anchor.” Scott was defending himself. Why was he defending himself?

“See? _Using her_.” 

Scott stood up. “You don’t know anything about what Allison and I have!”

“She makes you feel safe.” Jackson remarked solemnly. “You don’t feel so scared when you’re together. Even when you’re doing something as banal as walking down the hallway at school, it’s better because she’s there. When she’s angry with you, you love her even more. When you’re angry with her, you’d do anything to stop being angry with her.”

Scott clenched his fist, feeling claws dig into his palm. Jackson spoke as if he was riding around in his head. “What fucking business is it of yours?”

“Remember when you tried to convince me to take her to the Winter Formal? You were right. I do care about her. She’s my friend. It’s fucking inconvenient but there it is. And I know what she’s going through and I know what you’re doing: you’re tearing her apart.” 

“She’s not her family.” For Scott, that was important. She wasn’t a hunter. Being trained surreptitiously doesn’t make you a hunter. Hunting makes you a hunter.

“Bullshit. She’s as much a product of her family as you are a product of yours and I am a product of mine.” Jackson condescended to him as if he were explaining things to a toddler.

But it was true, wasn’t it? As much as it irked him, it irked him in the same way as Erica’s words did in the hallway or in the chemistry lab. Allison and he were sneaking around for stolen moments in a pathetic parody of a relationship. Just a few days ago, Allison’s mother had threatened him with bodily harm if she caught them together. 

“No matter how much she cares about you, the difference between who she is and what you’ve become is going to cause problems. You might have been able to get past it if there wasn’t a fucking war going on, but … my suggestion isn’t about what’s fair. It’s about what’s best for her.”

Scott was so angry at Jackson that it slipped his mind that he was actually a killer reptile. “Yeah.” His sarcasm wasn’t as potent as Stiles’. “Yeah, it’s easy for you to say. I should be like you, I should send her a registered letter saying I think things are too difficult right now. That’d be nice. That would make her feel real happy.” 

Jackson diffused the sarcasm by being literal. “No, I don’t think that would go over very well. You should make her break up with you.”

“What?” Scott was saying this word a lot tonight.

“In the end, it’s about power. It’s always about power. You want what’s best for her? Let the decision be hers. Let her end it.”

“Allison isn’t going to break up with me because what you _or I_ think is best for her.” Scot rolled his eyes. “She loves me.”

“Then make her hate you. Cheat on her.” 

Scott’s jaw drop opened at the audacity. Jackson was actually arguing that he should cheat on Allison for her own good. And he was being totally serious, sitting on Scott’s armchair like what he said was the most normal, common thing in the world. 

“Ha, ha.” Scott shook his head in disbelief. He sat back down on the chair.

“I’m not joking. If you’re having trouble finding someone for the job, I’ll do it.” 

Scott froze once more, though this time it felt like someone had taken an iron to the side of his head. What Jackson had said and why he had said it stuck in his mind like it was wedged there.

“I owe you.” Jackson’s voice was casual, as if he had just suggested a pick-up game of lacrosse rather than sex.

“What makes you think I’d have sex with you?” Scott blurted out.

“I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to repeat this, but I’m everyone’s type.”

“I like girls.” Scott fell back onto the same thing he had once told coach. It was easy. 

“You liked girls. And?” Jackson rolled his eyes. “When I was six, I liked Power Rangers. Three months ago, you were human. Things change. Take advantage of that.”

“This is your plan? You want to protect Allison, so you want us to fuck so she’ll break up with me?” Scott narrowed his eyes in disbelief. 

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It _is_ a bad thing! It’s wrong!” Scott declared. “When he bit you, did you get your skill at strategy from Derek along with shape shifting into a killer lizard?”

“One, I am not the kanima,” Jackson responded hotly. “Two, you haven’t said no.”

Scott turned away from the other teen. “I’m going wake up one of these days and it’s going to be a bad case of food poisoning giving me terrible nightmares. That’s it. None of this is real. The Hales aren’t real. Gerard Argent isn’t real. Kanimas aren’t real. Werewolves aren’t real!”

Jackson snorted. “McCall, you’re a werewolf. Get over it.”

“You know I am so fucking done with people telling me to get over it.” Scott snarled. “People seem to think that I was bit in grated. I was bit the night before this semester started in January? Next week is Spring Break? Maybe I’m just slow, but I think it takes more than ten weeks to adjust to being a new goddamn species!” 

Scott leapt off his chair got directly into Jackson’s face. “I get it, though. Because they never tell me to get over it because I’m hurting myself. They tell me to get over it because they want something from me. Peter, at least, was honest about it. Derek wanted to be my big brother and now he wants to be my mob boss. Stiles wants me to be a fucking superhero so he can live victoriously through me.”

“Vicariously.”

“What-the-fuck-ever.” Scott spat. “It’s not like he can’t walk away from this whenever he wants, which is probably what he should do. At least, he’s got a dad that can make everything all better when he’s decided he has had enough. And you, you’re worst of all. You’re jealous of this bullshit!”

“What are you crying … “

Scott punched Jackson right then. He couldn’t take any more of Jackson’s perfect face telling him that what he was feeling wasn’t important. That he should be okay with being a monster! The punch wasn’t particularly hard, but it did shock Jackson into being quiet.

“I want you to shut up until you’ve been shot, lying in a pile of leaves in the forest, waiting to die.” Scott grabbed Jackson by the shoulders and picked him put up out of the chair. “I want you to shut up until your girlfriend’s father threatens to kill you in front of her, at least twice. I want you to _shut up_ until someone old dick twists a goddamn knife in your stomach! I want you to _SHUT UP_ until some leather-clad asshole claws you up to prove a point and then demands that you trust him. That’s in less than three months, asshole, three months!” He let Jackson fall back, sliding to the floor.

“Sheesh, McCall, been holding that in for a while?” Jackson picked himself back up, rubbing his jaw. 

“Yes.” Scott’s hands were shaking and he threw himself down on the bed. “Yes.”

“But you’re just proving my point.”

Scott groaned and rolled over. He wanted this to end. He wanted this to all go away. He wanted to go to sleep and pretend that nothing he did mattered, that if he just stayed in bed it wouldn’t mean that someone might die.

“Somethings gotta give. You can’t be everyone’s perfect angel when you’re about to explode inside. You ain’t gonna ditch Stilinski, not yet. Who else is there? I told you, because I know. She’s going to be the one you hurt.”

“Do you want in my pants that badly?” 

“They’re very nice pants.” Jackson sat on the bed. “What I want is to do something. I think you can understand that.”

Scott did understand. Jackson needed a win – some way to exert control over his surroundings. It was probably the reason he was so adamant that he was not a kanima, or his Master wasn’t allowing him to comprehend it. That a win consisted of seducing him and supposedly helping Allison at the same time was flattering to Scott. 

Scott understood perfectly. Scott himself felt that he was drowning in a sea of terror. He’d stopped Derek from murdering Lydia, but it didn’t feel like a victory. He’d stopped Jackson and Jackson’s Master from murdering Danny for one night, but it felt hollow. Both of them were holding actions; those victories were like life rafts in a hurricane. He was so tired. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just do the wrong thing once. No. He couldn’t think like that.

“I’m not going to fuck you …”

“We both know, McCall, that it’d be the other way around.” 

“Just lie down.” Scott put a hand on the bed next to him. “Shut up and lie down. We can have one night.” 

It was a compromise. It’s not the power play that Jackson wanted. It’s not a defining moment where Jackson changes someone’s world out of pure will. It’s not the reassurance that he was someone and what he wanted and did mattered. 

And it was not the normalcy that Scott wanted. It’s not a love affair untouched by the violence and blood surrounding it, saving him from choking to death on blood. It’s not an emotion that washes away the entire shitty world for an hour. It’s not Allison. 

It was comfort. It’s something that neither of them have had for a while, and it didn’t matter that they’re the ones who made the decisions not to have it. Jackson could have stayed with Lydia and opened up to his adopted parents. Scott could have not gotten into the middle of the Hale-Argent War. 

It was playing pretend. Jackson got to pretend to prove to himself that he was not the kanima, even though he totally was. If Scott let him sleep with him, then how could he possibly the monster of which they were all afraid? Scott got to pretend that there was something he could do that wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

Scott turned on his side, facing the wall away from the chair. He kicked off his shoes while Jackson lay down on his back next to him. They didn’t touch. They probably would after they both fell asleep, but they were not at the point of doing it consciously yet. They might never get to that point.

It was enough for that night. Tomorrow night promised an exclusive rave in a downtown warehouse. Tomorrow night was for plans and plans and plans. Tonight, they slept, and if in their sleep they erased the distance between them, who was there to judge?


End file.
